


Spitting Image

by conceptstage



Series: Single Chapter Critical Role [109]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22035814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptstage/pseuds/conceptstage
Summary: Inspired by Sam's joke about Beau's dad looking like Beau with a mustache but with angst.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast
Series: Single Chapter Critical Role [109]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1436668
Comments: 8
Kudos: 109





	Spitting Image

Beau sighed, feeling the muscles in her back relax for the first time in what felt like weeks. The warm water felt like heaven and she was loathe to get out but their time was up. “Noooo,” she whined when Jester, wrapped in a white towel, stood outside the tub and pulled on her arm.

Jester giggled. “It’s time to go, Beau,” she said, clearly delighted with her unintended rhyme. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning, we need to get started packing.”

Beau sighed but climbed up and out, huffing and shivering when the air hit her wet skin. Jester handed her a towel and she dried off her arms and then tied it around her waist as she followed Jester into the dressing room. Fjord and Yasha were already dressed and chatting quietly near the door. Nott was wearing an illusion so it just looked like a fully clothed Veth taking Nott’s pants and cloak and stuffing them into her dress. She snorted at the visual and started looking for Caleb. She found him over by the mirrors, carefully shaving his face with a towel around his hips.

“Oh, good idea,” she said, taking Fjord’s razor out of his rucksack, ignoring Fjord’s indignant ‘Hey!’, and walking over to the mirror next to Caleb. “I should do my undercut while I’m thinking about it.”

Beau got through about a quarter of her undercut when the others started to leave. Jester, fully dressed now, yelled “Goodbye! We’ll save you seats at dinner!” as they all disappeared out the door, leaving Beau and Caleb alone. They were quiet for a moment, shaving in silence, until the two strangers who had been undressing for the bath were gone.

“Did I miss a spot?” Caleb asked, running his fingers over his smooth skin. 

Beau paused her shaving and hummed thoughtfully, grabbing his chin and turning his face this way and that to check. “A little here, right under your ear.”

“Danke.” He nodded and finished it off before sitting down his razor and washing his face in the sink below the mirror. He picked up Nott’s discarded towel and pat his face dry, then he spent several silent seconds just staring at his reflection. 

Beau watched him curiously through the mirror as she finished up the right side of her undercut. “You alright, man? You’re very pretty but you gotta stop staring at yourself at some point.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up in an almost smile but he didn’t look away from his own face. “I never realized…” he started, then paused and let the end of the sentence hang in the air. “I never realized until now how much I look like my mother. I have been so thin and hairy for so long that I never noticed.” Caleb had definitely gained weight since they’d met, his cheeks were not longer sunken in and she couldn't count his ribs anymore.

Beau wasn’t sure how to respond to that and just put a hand on his shoulder. He sighed heavily and nodded his thanks before turning away from the mirror altogether. Beau frowned but started on the other side of her head while he got dressed behind her. She finished off the last of her undercut just as he pulled on his coat and she took a moment to look at her own face, wondering for a moment who she might see looking back at her.

“I look like my father,” she said. She sat down the razor and started running her fingers over her father’s brow ridge and his wide chin and his greek nose. “Spitting fucking image.” Part of her wanted to punch the mirror, destroy the evidence, pretend for a little longer that she had nothing of his at all.

Caleb reached forward and draped a dry towel over her shoulders and she realized that she was shivering. “I will wait for you to get dressed.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. She spent another moment staring at her father’s face in the mirror before turning away sharply and quickly getting dressed.


End file.
